Walked a different route to the store at lunch today to avoid the crows, because I was just getting salad and salad disappoints them so.
Category Archives: Feral Living
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Okay, that’s why they call hot glue “hot glue”.
Went into the men’s room at work to take a pee and when I went to unzip my zipper, it was already unzipped!
0.5 beard: the capacity of the rechargeable batteries in my battery-powered beard trimmer.
Emergency room doctor: So what brings you here?
Man: This, uh, mosquito bite.
Man: It was really super weirdly swollen yesterday. And red… and as I’ve had Lyme disease in the past, it seemed prudent to get it checked.
Doctor: (peers over glasses) Lyme disease you have to wait 2-3 weeks before symptoms appear. Also Lyme disease is still only transmitted by ticks. It wasn’t a tick was it?
Man: Actually it was my wife. I mean it was a mosquito, but my wife urged me to come in.
Man: See, my regular doctors are all on vacation.
Doctor: Did you put anything on it?
Man: Ice. That’s why it’s not swollen, maybe.
Doctor: (glances at watch)
Man: And I feel a little sick. And I have a scratchy throat. (coughs) And that cough just started.
Man: And my daughter, see. She’s sick and so I thought might be good to get that checked too.
Doctor: (to nurse) Any fever?
Nurse: (to man) Any allergies?
Man: Not yet.
Man: I mean, hay fever, but not currently suffering symptoms.
Nurse: (takes blood)
Doctor: Wait outside until we get the lab results back.
Man: (Reads sign: “Patients will be called in the order of seriousness of their condition and not the order in which they arrive”)
Man: (observes battery bar of phone getting shorter and redder)
Man: (Finds electrical outlet next to gas masks)
Man: (Texts, “This is like a combination of Kafka and…” but then deletes it, types, “The waiting room looks like an explosion in Frankenstein’s laboratory” then deletes that. Texts something to his family, makes a typo that looks like Italian, starts riffing more Italian until his family are all replying with question marks, then stops.)
Man: (Looks at gas masks, thinks, “if these were defibillators I could recharge my phone in one second”)
Man: (Types, “everyone is here: the person who didn’t watch where they were going, the person who cut corners, the person who pet the strange dog, the person who ran with scissors…” deletes it)
Man: (Likes everything on Instagram. Posts a sunset picture.)
Man: (Wonders, did I remember to tell them I was feeling a little shakey too?)
Man: (Wonders: if he has to wait for someone to arrive with a condition less serious than a mosquito bite before his turn will come)
Man: (Watches battery icon turn green) Yes!
Man: (Watches four men on crutches race into examination room after being called out simultaneously)
Man: (Scrolls past a picture of a cat lying on a sidewalk without ‘liking’ it)
Man: (Wonders if they called out his name and he didn’t hear it because he was spaced out, or because they mispronounced it egregiously. Wonders if he should go, remembers hardware they put in his arm. Checks Twitter.)
Man: (Tries to remember title of novel he had an idea for, which was possibly better than the other title he had for it)
Man: (Is glad he wore his nice suit today)
(Trigger warning: violence against old ladies)
Last night, I kicked an old lady in the belly.
In my defense she was crowding me.
I thought I just got her leg or something.
It didn’t feel like a belly.
It felt like a leg, or a foot.
And when I was hanging at the end of the lane wiping fog off my goggles and she told me what had happened, I said “I’m sorry.”
Those exact words.
In my defense the pool was really crowded and people in the Austrian pools I’ve experienced have no pool culture.
Normally, you have a lane and you swim laps in it clockwise or counterclockwise.
In a systematic fashion, in other words.
In this pool last night, the left half was being used by kids training for some team and the lower half of the right half was full of very large persons with neoprene gloves standing around for a fitness class, and everyone else was sort of swimming around in what was left over.
Not that it really matters. I also feel uncomfortable in a pool with strict lanes, because what George Carlin says about driving – how all the other drivers are either idiots (slower than you) or maniacs (faster than you) also applies to swimming and I am usually an idiot but sometimes also a maniac, and I don’t like myself in either role.
So I was relieved when my wife got sick of it (and probably didn’t want to listen to anyone else I kicked tell them about the hip operation they just had) and we left and asked for our money back.
We didn’t get our money back but we got credit to use the next time we swim.
It won’t be on a Tuesday, that’s children’s day and they’re the worst.
On paper, Monday looked good – the whole right half of the pool was free, but that’s the difference between theory and practice for you.
Practice is always fucking with you.
Cast: Man, in his fifties, white hair (mad-scientist-style), beard, wearing paint-spattered pants, white dress shirt stained with silver nitrate solution, rubber gloves (also stained), protective goggles over glasses, and a head lamp (LED with red filter). Woman, in her twenties, whom man has known since she went to school with his daughter, wearing whatever women in their twenties wear.
Woman: (rings doorbell) [Insert doorbell sound effect here]
Man: (comes around corner from back yard) Oh hi. Beta’s out for a walk with her mom. Dunno when they’re going to be back. You can wait for them if you want, or I can give her a message.
Woman: Hi! She was going to loan me a backpack. I can come back later.
Man: Ok. I’ll tell her you stopped by. See you. (goes back to messing around with antique camera in back yard)
Woman: Ok. Bye. (leaves)